


Operation Assface

by minoru_genso



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Brain Surgery, Episode: s07e13 The Killer in Me, F/M, Gen, Humor, Hurt Spike (BtVS), Missing Scene, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-06 00:51:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10321757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minoru_genso/pseuds/minoru_genso
Summary: They were so damn cute. They didn't know how cute they were.





	

“Those were his exact words, ma'am,” Sergeant Evans added quickly. He didn't mention that Finn had requested that he use those exact words upon greeting Ms. Summers and her vampire charge.

His men were hauling Hostile 17 onto a gurney when he made it down the steps to her.

“I'm Sergeant Evans. Pleased to meet you, Ms. Summers.” She shook his extended hand hesitantly.

“Hi. Um – Buffy. You can call me Buffy.”

Evans smiled.

“I've heard a lot about you. Agent Finn said you requested medical assistance for your vampire. This is Dr. Faust, our non-human medical specialist,” he added, indicating to one of the five soldiers standing around the gurney – the skinny guy with red hair. “He has extensive experience with behavioral modification implants.”

Faust, who had been shining a flashlight into the vampire's eyes, looked up and nodded in greeting.

“Spike's chip – it's firing on its own. Why would it do that?” Buffy asked. “How long are these things supposed to last?”

“Ehhh... Usually coupla years, same as any other technology. Depends on a lot of factors, though. We'll take a scan first, see what we're dealing with. I expect I'll have to go in surgically, based on what you're telling me and his current condition.”

Hostile 17 groaned.

“Buffy?” He said very quietly. Two of the men around the gurney stumbled backwards. Evans realized half a second later that Buffy had shoved them aside with such quickness it was like an optical illusion.

“I'm right here.”

The subject's eyes were open and not focused on anything. At the sound of her voice, his gaze wavered to her general direction.

“I can't – I can't see,” 

“You can't see? At all?” Her voice sounded flat, a near-indifferent probing of knowledge, the same tone as a few minutes earlier when she'd asked 'Are you still with us?'

“It's just blurs... Color.”

“It's okay, you don't need to see right now. Just rest.” She instructed brusquely. “These guys are going to take a look at your chip and – Spike? Can you hear me?” There was no answer from the subject. She turned to Faust, confused. “Why is he blinking so fast?”

Faust had the balls to grip the Slayer by the shoulders and physically move her away. Evans' men stood frozen in shock as the lanky ginger began to drag the gurney towards the med bay by himself.

“He's having a seizure. A partial one. You can talk to him later, okay? If I'm going to fix what's wrong with him before he dies, we need to get moving – hey, are any of you numbnuts gonna help me?”

 

~

 

The surgery to remove the implant had been underway for twenty minutes. Evans' attention was divided between watching the procedure and watching the Slayer as she waited in the hallway. He had a feeling she didn't know she was being watched. It was protocol to have cams in every room and the hallways. As unorthodox as Operation Assface was, he owed it to Finn to provide a full debriefing.

Buffy Summers looked very ready to kill something. From what he knew about Slayers, Evans guessed she was not happy about being cooped up during her peak hunting time. She showed this by tapping her foot, pacing restlessly, crossing and uncrossing her arms, and sighing loudly. His men were guarding her discreetly. He'd advised them to keep her within a certain perimeter and hoped there won't be confrontation, despite her obvious aggression. Evans sincerely hoped that the chair he had provided for her comfort would not come to be used as a weapon. 

He could understand her impatience and anger under the current circumstance. Finn had mentioned that Hostile 17 was an asset to Buffy's work as the Slayer, in fighting capability and connections. Having him temporarily out of commission put her at a strategic disadvantage. And, should he not survive the procedure... Evans imagined she had invested a lot of time training this vampire, and would be displeased to have to repeat the process.

Almost two hours later, Evans returned with Faust in tow to the hallway where Buffy was waiting. She was sitting, with back straight and hands gripping the edge of the seat. Her eyes stared blankly at the opposite wall, though she must have heard his footsteps approaching. Evans cleared his throat.

“Ms. Summers? - Buffy? The procedure's complete.”

Buffy stood up stiffly.

“How'd it go?”

Faust gave the post-op reporting. “We successfully removed the implant. I'm happy to report there were no complications. We did spend a little extra time lifting displaced bone from a depressed skull fracture. I imagine whatever blunt force trauma that caused the fracturing also moved the chip just so slightly - which would explain the shortened timeline between when he first began to experience symptoms and when the effect on neural functioning would have been fatal.”

“Blunt force trauma?” Buffy asked faintly.

“Like getting hit on the head, being thrown headfirst into walls... Quite common, I imagine, in your line of work. But not to worry, the only serious problem from the fracture was due to the presence of the chip, and now that's out of the picture. Vamps are impressively resilient. You can bash their skulls in, twist their spinal columns – it seems they do survive any type of structural damage, apart from beheading.”

Buffy looked slightly sickened. Evans tapped Faust on the shoulder and gave him a meaningful look to remind him this was one of his opportunities to improve on his communication skills, being sensitive to audience and context.

“Ah – sorry, that's probably more detail than you needed to hear. Anyway, the surgery went fine. Your vampire will eventually be able to return to normal activities with no limitations.”

“You mean – he - he's really going to be okay? He'll be able to see again an-and everything?”

“Gonna take some time for the incision to heal. He should rest for the next few days, but after that he should be field-ready and fully operational. No more than a week, I'd expect.”

“Oh,” A murmur to herself. “ _Oh._ ” A gasp.

On the syllable broke open all she had been suppressing inside over the past hours. She clapped a hand over her mouth as she wrapped her other arm around herself. The sound of sobbing was muffled as tears poured over onto her trembling hand. He had been wrong, Evans realized. This vampire was not an asset to her, at least not primarily. This vampire was someone she loved. As he waited for her to get her emotions under control, he realized with regret that he hadn't relieved his men. They were all still at their hidden posts, watching this woman cry. 

Buffy took a few steadying breaths then blurted out, “Can I see him?”

 

~

 

It was nearly 0400 when the return transport got underway. Hostile 17 – or, Spike, as the Slayer insisted on calling him – was still unconscious. Faust had given him enough pain meds to ensure there would be no problems should he awaken during the short ride. Spike did wake up during the ride but was silent. No hostility or visible distress. Evans didn't notice Spike was awake until he heard Buffy. Her voice sounded like she was speaking to a baby or a kitten.

“Hey, sleepyhead. How are you feeling?”

“Injection worked. Pain's gone. Buffy, luv,” he confided worriedly. “I think these blokes are gonna operate on me.”

As they spoke, their hands found each other and linked like separate sentient creatures.

“Surgery's done. Goodbye, Chip of Agony.”

“Oh. ...'sh done already?” The surprise on Spike's face reminded Evans of when his ten year old kid had been shown magic tricks for the first time.

“We're going home now.”

Spike smiled at her, looking tremendously relieved, then closed his eyes again. In the few minutes before they reached their destination, Buffy just watched him; her eyes caressed his face. Such affection, as if there was no one else in the van.

 _God_. Evans remembered. His ex-wife used to look at him like that.

Buffy called gently to Spike when they reached their destination, and he obediently opened his eyes.

“Can you walk?”

He nodded and continued looking up at her peacefully.

“...Spike?”

“Oh, you mean right thith momen'?”

“Yah-huh.”

He pushed himself into a sitting position, swung his legs over. As he stood, he examined the interior of the van.

“Whichshtop is this?”

“This is the 'My House' stop,” she announced with a grin, waggling her eyebrows.

As Spike took a step forward and stumbled, she moved with lightning speed to grab him by the waist and throw his arm over her shoulder. “Hold on to me,” she ordered. He didn't have much of a choice, the way she was holding onto _him_. They did a shuffle-hop off the van onto the driveway with the grace of prize-winning three-legged racers.

“Here.” Evans handed her a small bottle with a small sheet of paper wrapped around it. “Pain meds – same stuff Faust injected him with earlier.”

Buffy read aloud, “Take every 3-4 hours. No citrus fruit. Okay...” She slipped the bottle into Spike's coat pocket.

“No citrush frui'.” Spike repeated quietly to the pocket.

“Please give my thanks to Riley. Thank you guys so much. I can't thank you enough. I don't know what I would've – ”

“Glad to be of service, ma'am. You take care now.” Evans smiled warmly at the couple. His men waved their goodbyes.

“Oh, they're not comin' wif us?” Spike realized, turning to Buffy.

“...No.”

“Bu' we've only jush met them. Don' shuppose we ought to invite them in for tea?” He suggested, in what he probably thought was a whisper. “It's only proper.”

Buffy's face contorted in an effort not to burst out laughing. Her face and voice became theatrically serious in compensation.

“They're – _very_ busy.”

“Perhaps another time,” Sergeant Evans soothed. They were so damn cute. They didn't know how cute they were. 

Buffy patted the lax hand draped over her shoulder.

“Let's get you inside.”

“Uh - Cheerio, then!” Spike shouted over his shoulder as she pivoted him toward the house.

As they tottered to the front door, a teenage girl with long brown hair, wearing pink plaid pajamas and a pissy face held it open for them. Despite her demeanor, she took Spike's other arm to offer him support. Evans watched with a smile as the door closed behind the Slayer and her boyfriend, Assface.

 

 


End file.
